"Callie?" Penny prompted one night, as they lay side-by-side in bed with three feet of empty space between them. "Are you ever going to tell me what's going on with you?"

With her eyes already shut, Callie stiffened. Silently, she decided whether or not to pretend she was asleep.

"I know you're awake."

Callie sighed as she rolled onto her back and then onto her side to face her girlfriend. She supposed she owed Penny that much.

Penny searched her girlfriend's rich brown eyes, desperate for an answer. "What's going on with you? I feel like things have been off since we got back from Italy."

Callie nodded. That was true.

"Did something happen? I thought we had fun."

"We did," Callie quickly assured her. "I mean, at least I did."

Penny smiled a little. "I did, too." But, still, she didn't feel any better. "So what's wrong?"

Callie exhaled a shaky breath, preparing herself to reveal the truth—something she wasn't sure that her girlfriend would want to hear.

"Callie…? Please, just-"

"We went to Italy together," Callie blurted out.

Penny's eyebrows furrowed. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"We both took off two weeks from work so that we could go to Italy together—just the two of us."

Penny waited.

"We went to one of the most romantic places in the world!" Callie continued. "It felt like a honeymoon or something."

"So what's the problem?" Penny beseeched, more confused than ever.

"Penny…" Callie breathed. "I just…It's not that there's a 'problem.' It's just that, when we got there, we didn't spend any time together. You did your thing and I did my thing."

"Well…you know I don't love history, and you're not a huge fan of opera, so-"

"I know!" Callie exclaimed. "I'm not saying that I minded being apart. The trip was great. We both loved it."

"So what's the problem?" Penny wondered again.

Callie shrugged, feeling helpless as she admitted the truth. "The problem is that we didn't mind being apart. And it's not supposed to be like that."

Penny felt her throat go dry, and she unsuccessfully attempted to swallow the bile in her throat. "What are you saying?"

Callie offered her a tender, sad smile. "You know what I'm saying. It's not working. We're not working. We're supposed to want to be together all the time. And we don't."

Penny felt her eyes well up with tears, and Callie reached out to take her hand. "You know I'll always care about you," she promised, "but…as happy as we've been together, we deserve more than this. We deserve not to settle for each other. Don't you think we deserve more?"

Penny sniffled.

Callie continued, "Penny, you deserve someone who never wants to be away from you if she doesn't have to be, and you should find her. And…I should…" She trailed off, not knowing what she should do.

"You should find your person, too," Penny finished for her after a moment of silence. "The woman—or man—you don't want to be away from. Someone who minds being apart from you."

xx

That was three months before and, since then, Penny and Callie had officially parted ways; Penny moved to a smaller apartment in New York, and Callie did something brave: she moved home.

And she had been prepared to endure snide comments from her old coworkers, since she had impulsively moved with her resident (ex-)girlfriend to New York (and for what?), but instead, all her friends were only happy that she was back.

And she enjoyed catching up with everyone: with Bailey, Meredith, Alex, Owen, and Sofia, of course, who she hadn't seen since she started living with Arizona a few months earlier.

But, to her surprise, the person Callie loved to spend time with most was Arizona herself. In fact, Callie longed to be with her all the time.

xx

She saw Arizona rounding the corner of the hallway and couldn't help but smile. "Hey, stranger," she called.

Arizona whipped her head toward the sweet voice and instinctively smiled back.

She walked toward Callie. "It's officially your third week back. Are you missing New York yet?"

"Well, I do miss knowing that there's such a thing as the Sun," Callie joked, "but, otherwise, no. This is home."

Arizona smiled. "Well. I'm glad to hear it." And, in truth, Seattle had felt more like home to her, too, since Callie had come back. But it's not like I can ever say that, she reminded herself. She turned to go.

Then Callie stopped her. "Arizona?"

Arizona stopped short, her heart fluttering in the same way it always had when Callie said her name—even so many years later. "Yeah?"

Callie looked at her feet. "I, um…" She forced herself to meet prodding blue eyes. "I know Sofia's going to Hazel's sleepover party tonight, so I was wondering, if you're free, if you might want to come over?"

Arizona's eyes widened.

"We could catch up a little more. Or something." Why do I feel like I'm asking her out on a date? Callie wondered to herself. I'm not. "Unless you're busy. Then you can just-"

"I'd like that," Arizona assured Callie before her ex-wife could panic.

And so they had dinner together. And then they had dinner again the following Friday. And then that Sunday. And then the following Tuesday. And then Callie began to feel somehow less happy and less complete during the nights they spent apart.

And that's what she was thinking about that Friday night as she sat on Arizona's couch while the blonde put their daughter to bed: how much she hated being apart from Arizona and how much she valued their nights together.

Arizona came back into the room and paused momentarily, taking a moment just to look at Callie, silently admiring her beauty, before she was noticed.

Callie pulled herself out of her reverie and caught Arizona's eye, noticing her staring. "What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing." Arizona blushed and turned away, busying herself with tidying up the already tidy kitchen.

Callie stood up and strode over to the counter, resting her elbows on the cold marble and watching her ex-wife scrub the sink with a sponge. "I can do that," she offered.

Arizona shook her head. "I don't mind." They were silent for a minute, with Arizona scrubbing and Callie watching her. Then, Arizona shut off the sink. "Do you want some more wine?"

Callie pursed her lips. "I, um." She paused. What she really wanted was to ask a question.

"Did you ever...mind that I was gone?"

Arizona's head snapped up, and she looked at Callie in confusion. Why is she asking me that? she wondered.

But, before she could answer, Callie was already backtracking, worried that it had been an impulsive, inappropriate question. "I mean, I know you were dating other people while I was in New York, and I know that—except for missing Sofia—it probably didn't make a difference to you, since we didn't really hang out, anyway, but-"

She paused. WHAT AM I DOING? she panicked. This was a bad idea.

"I actually think more wine might be a good idea," she decided. Callie headed back to where their glasses and the bottle sat on the coffee table, wondering, "Do you want some?"

Arizona followed her, thoughtfully considering Callie's strange question and mood. Her ex-wife was oddly less direct than she had been in the past. In fact, she wasn't only less direct; she was awkward.

She's nervous, Arizona realized suddenly.

And, as much as that realization shocked Arizona, it also pleased her. Because she had felt her palms sweat and her heart speed up when she had sat beside Callie earlier that evening, and she felt that same anxiety—that same anticipation that her ex-wife had always managed to arouse—now.

Callie sipped her wine without meeting Arizona's eyes, not wanting to make the blonde uncomfortable or embarrass herself any further. In an effort to change the subject, she wondered, "What are you doing this weekend?"

But, to her dismay, Arizona only continued to look at her without answering the question.

Finally, she decided to answer Callie's earlier question—one that continued to echo in her mind: "Did you ever...mind that I was gone?"

"Callie, I wasn't allowed to mind," Arizona admitted. And, this time, it was her turn to explain herself.

She looked into surprised and receptive brown eyes and continued, "I encouraged you to go to New York from the start because that was what you wanted. And I had no right to tell you that I didn't want you to go or even to let myself think about why Seattle suddenly felt so empty after you left."

Callie's waited, eyes wide.

"I mean, come on," Arizona sighed, defeated. "We weren't girlfriends or wives or even friends. You were always my person…or whatever. So I thought we'd stay friends after the divorce, but…" She trailed off. Callie knew the rest of it. They hadn't managed to stay friends. Instead, they'd taken each other to court.

"I wanted to," Callie agreed softly. "I wanted to be friends. But every time I saw you after the divorce, I still wanted to wrap my arms around you and hold you and protect you—and not like a friend. I could never just be your friend."

"Right," Arizona breathed, glad to know for certain why their relationship had dissolved post-divorce. She had never been able to just be Callie's friend, either.

Callie tried to smile.

"But, to answer your question," Arizona continued, "I always mind. Being away from you. I know I can live a long, happy life without you, or with someone else, but…everything just is better when you're here. With me."

Callie's smile broadened, and she felt her heart begin to beat faster. Gently—almost timidly—she lifted a shaking hand to tuck a loose strand of blonde hair behind Arizona's ear. She kept her eyes on Arizona's face and watched blue eyes shut and heard her breath catch, almost inaudibly.

"You know, since coming back, I've finally admitted to myself how I always kept you with me," Callie began, offering her own confession. "In New York, whenever I had a good slice of pizza, I couldn't help but think about how much you'd like it. And, even in Italy, I kept thinking about all the places you'd love if we ever went there together."

Arizona's lips curled up into a small smile, and she looked into Callie's face, unblinking.

"You were allowed to miss me. To mind my being gone, and us being apart," Callie whispered. "Because I did. I missed you." She paused, looking down and fiddling with her hands that lay on her lap. "I still do."

Arizona followed Callie's eyes then reached out, stilling two soft hands with one of her own. "You don't have to miss me." Her other hand reached out to caress Callie's cheek, and her body began to tingle with warmth. "I'm right here."

Callie released a shaky breath, wanting more than anything to wrap her arms around Arizona and never let go, but first wanting to make sure that her ex-wife knew that she meant what she said. "Arizona," she breathed. "I mean it. I want to be with you. I don't want to be apart, anymore. And I need you to know that, even with everything, I never for a second stopped wanting you to be there with me."

"Calliope…" Arizona exhaled. And, overcome with years of ache and want, she ducked her head, offering her own loving response as she captured full lips in a searing kiss that began to heal years of separation.

Callie wrapped her arms around Arizona's back, pulling the blonde closer as the smaller body fit perfectly in the curves and hollows of her own body. Each woman surrendered to true love as two pairs of inexhaustible hands re-explored bodies and re-activated each nerve ending, smiling even more than they were actually kissing.

Finally, realizing that they were no longer sitting and she now lay on the deep couch with Arizona practically on top of her, breast-to-breast, Callie pulled back to catch her breath.

Arizona looked down at Callie, dimpling at the sight of her drunken expression before she leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss on each closed eyelid. Callie smiled as soft hair tickled her nose and lips, and her palms moved up over Arizona's sides.

"You know…" Callie whispered once Arizona pulled back, inhaling the sweet scent of her breathing. "I really wouldn't mind staying like this for a while."

Arizona dimpled, playfully wiggling her hips a little as she got comfortable between Callie's legs. She felt Callie's hands instinctually clutch her more tightly as Arizona briefly rubbed their bodies together. "You wouldn't mind, huh?" she teased.

Callie, momentarily burying her primal physical desires and joking façade, brought her hands up to tenderly cradle Arizona's face. "No. I wouldn't mind. And what I mean by that is I love you," she continued with utter seriousness. "And I want to hold you, and touch you, but I really don't care what we do. As long as we're together."

Arizona blushed at the overwhelming devotion in Callie's voice, and she leaned down for a warm, somehow familiar kiss. "I know what you meant. And we can do it all. Together."